


Tea With The Scent of Daffodils

by survivalinstinctvalkyria



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Actually Very Old, Daffodils mean unrequited love I think, Hanahaki AU, I Tried, I hope or else the title is really stupid, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-26 08:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14997050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/survivalinstinctvalkyria
Summary: Having a makeshift tea party with that troublesome childhood friend of his that he might have fallen in love with sounds like a good way to kill time for Keito.Except, it really isn't, he realizes, when he notices the flower petal that had fallen past his lips into the cup.





	1. The Pain of Unrequited Love Is Solitary, Isn't It?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [izukasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/izukasa/gifts).



> This is so old, but I figured I'd post it anyway. Part two will come when my phone isn't dying. Also I don't really understand how I formatted this, but I wrote this instead of sleeping, so that's to be expected.

Feelings like this _shouldn't_ exist. He knows that they're every type of taboo possible, some impossible, dirty dream.

Yet, within cups of pretty porcelain (These ones are the color of Eichi’s eyes _—_ Keito’s favorite), little cubes of sugar have allowed this- this curse to manifest within them, slowly dissolving into the tea.

It unsettles him, and he nearly drops the cup without realizing it. Eichi sets his teacup down to stare at him in surprise, and Keito's heart jolts again.

“Is something bothering you, Keito? Like, it's too sweet, or something?” Eichi inquiries from in front of him.

No, it's not too sweet, but a petal rests on its surface.

That damned disease had to follow him here, of all places.

“No, it's fine. I just burned my tongue,” a white lie, his chest his burning, constricting, and he feels ready to suffocate on the flowers blooming in his chest. Eichi nods, unconvinced.

“And you're always scolding me for not taking my time, Keito!” He pouts jokingly, and Keito's chest constricts again. Placing the saucer down, he coughs into his sleeve. Eichi’s expression is unreadable.

“This is what I mean! You're getting sick, for God's sake!” He leans over to pick the petal out of Keito’s drink, “and you could've just said if drinking in the garden was bothering you, you know?” Carelessly, he lets it float down to the ground.

Keito's first thought is _Oh, no._

Yet he still nods and scolds Eichi for trying to distract him from his own poor health. Crushing the petal beneath his foot discreetly, he rubs it against the stone path, half in concern of someone else touching it, and half in anger.

What kind of a monster is he?

* * *

 

_Eichi has always been troublesome,_ Keito muses, _really, he ought to grow up by now._

Reading over Mao’s work yet again, he hands it back with an approving nod, and Mao smiles in return.

“I'm back! I went out and bought you some refreshments,” a familiar blonde's voice rings from the doorway “I don't like seeing all of the energy drinks you have littered around here. Take some, they're fruit smoothies.” Starting with Tori and Yuzuru, he passes them out. Mao mumbles out a _thank you_ to Eichi before promptly chugging it down, and Eichi laughs.

_His laugh is nice._

Keito vanishes the thought from his mind.

Finally, Eichi hands a drink to him. Their fingers brush, and the touch is electric. Gingerly, he takes the bottle and turns the cap to open it. _Strawberry banana, huh?_ He brings it to his lips and takes a sip.

“So? What do you think, Keito?” Eichi's face is right in front of Keito's when he looks up. Too close. Keito narrows his eyes, and Eichi leans back.

Oddly enough, Keito feels a slight buzz in his throat, and he puts his arms around his jaw to cough. He does cough, painfully. When he pulls away, two flower petals are nestled into his elbow.

Mao notices. Mouth agape and eyes wide, his face reeks of terror. Any words he may want to say die in his lips. Terror boils in Keito.

“It's a bit plain,” he says simply.

* * *

 

Hanahaki, the web has told him. Mao as well, the younger boy probably feeling too guilty to not say anything.

“I have it, too,” he says straightly, “I'm not sure what to do, though.”

“Sakuma, huh?” Keito means to keep that to himself, but he can't help asking. Mao's face burns.

“Y-Yeah,” he mutters, “for Ritchan. That's why it's so difficult.” Keito chuckles at this.

“So we're both cursed because of our troublesome childhood friends, huh?” He holds out his soda can to Mao, a sarcastic gesture. Mao, too, raises his can to bump it against Keito's. _Clink._ Like some sort of resolution.

“Guess you're right.”

* * *

 

He feels hyper aware of Eichi's presence, what with these disease haunting him. It's gotten worse, and sometimes he ends up in a coughing fit during class and is dismissed to the nurse. Sagami just shrugs at him when this happens.

Everytime he sees Eichi lean close to share a joke with someone else, or even just smile at them, jealousy burns in Keito's chest.

He has to miss practice sometimes, too.

It would be easy if he could just go through with the procedure to get it removed. Many times, he's considered doing in right then and there. Only a few times has he actually picked up the phone or opened his mouth to speak. None of those times has he actually succeeded in saying it.

Once again, he's left in the bathroom, bent over the toilet, coughing up what seems to be a full bouquet of flowers. _They probably think I'm just vomiting,_ he reassures himself, _they probably think that I'm fine._

A ping from his phone alerts him of a text message. Deftly, he picks it up, and glances at the number.

It's Eichi.

Sighing, Keito slides his phone open and peers at the text.

 

_Hey, Keito!_

_We haven't been talking lately, you know?_

_Let's go to the arcade together!_

 

Keito curses himself for wondering why Eichi's asking him of all people to go to arcade with him. Instead of letting this show, however, he replies:

_You know I don't approve of you going to places like that. You could get sick._

He _knows_ that Eichi is sighing in exasperation.

 

_Fine, then, stick in the mud._

_Come to my garden, at least?_

_We might as well make use of it._

 

Hesitantly, Keito replies with an _Okay,_ and he prays that this stupid disease of his won't act up. He manages to wonder if this is how Eichi must feel.

* * *

 

Again, Eichi feels the need to be troublesome, digging up some old doujins Keito had drawn. Keito's scolding is only half-hearted, he's staring at Eichi's shoulder.

A little white petal, easy to miss if you don't look close enough, lies on it. There's one on his desk as well, by his elbows. Another in the crook of his neck. That's when it hits Keito…

He's absolutely disgusting. Revolting, sickening, ect.

Eichi, this devilish angel of his, he's ruined him, he knows. He can only imagine what kind of pain Eichi must be under right now.

Just one _stupid_ flower petal is all it takes.

If Eichi doesn't forgive him, than that's alright.

It's what he deserves.

Suddenly, he feels the flowers coming back up his throat again, and he's on his knees coughing. There's blood, too, and everything is hazy.

 

_“Danna! What happened?”_

_“Someone clean up those flowers!”_

_“Hasumi, can you stand!?”_

_“Don't touch the flowers, Morrichi.”_

_“It's like an epidemic, huh?”_

 

But one voice, quivering and afraid, rings out clear as day:

_“Keito, please, be alright,” it's Eichi, almost pleading on his knees, “please, don't leave me.”_


	2. Is there a fate worse than being jealous over an unrequited love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my best. I thought this was much better when I first wrote it, but...

This is worse than anything else he's ever suffered through by far.  _ Far worse. _

His body heaves, shaking with every cough, and flowers litter the floor. There's blood, too, but that's not what scares Eichi.

No, it's the fact that throughout all this suffering, all his thoughts come back to Keito.

* * *

 

After saying his goodbyes to Keito, he makes his way to the garden terrace. It's routine for him, and he has gotten strong enough that it's not difficult either. He's not the first one there, however.

Ritsu is, and the ground is littered with flowers. Anger is apparent on his face, as well as fear. Two things Eichi rarely truly sees on his face.

“Ritsu-”

“Go away, Ecchan,” he says flatly. “Don't come near me.”

“Oh, it's okay, I have it too.” Eichi pulls a flower petal from his pocket, “See? No need to worry!”

Ritsu gags. “I wasn't worried about you. I don't want you touching me.” Eichi pouts slightly, but still steps forward to help brush the petals off away from the path, out of view.

“So you went and fell for Mao, huh?” Eichi asks him quietly, “We both fell for our childhood friends.” Ritsu nods solemnly.

Once they're done cleaning up the mess, Eichi turns to the kettle. “I'll make us some tea,” he decides, “You know, as a sort of toast.” Ritsu hums noncommittally.

* * *

 

He's pretty sure no one except for him would describe Keito as being sexy. Only now do those slight smirks of his, the way that he leaves his collar unbuttoned, and even the way that he pushes his glasses up at times send shivers down his spine. He hates it.

Almost every time that Keito's eyes meet his, he needs to fight the urge to cough a storm. Keito has it as well, he's concluded. That flower in his tea, is the reason that Eichi has to suffer through this. But Eichi's not mad, he could never truly be mad at Keito.

The worst thing for him is knowing that Keito is suffering for someone else, someone who won't love him as much as Eichi loves him. That thought haunts him, and he curses at himself everytime he thinks of it.

Of course, getting it removed would be the best choice. But since when was the best choice ever the easiest?

Looking around his classroom, he sees classmates whose love lives he could never imagine. Chiaki, Kaoru, Izumi, Shu, and Madara. Kuro’s here as well, probably waiting for Keito.

Right now, he's going through one of the doujins Keito made when they were younger. The pen strokes are sloppier in some places, and there are even some blotches of ink in the corners of some pages. It's a wonder to think that he was once amazed by these, that he thought they were better than anything he'd ever seen or read before.

_ That's because Keito made it- _

He vanishes the thought from his head.

“There you are,” a voice–Keito's voice–rings from the doorway, “Come on, let's head home. What are you looking at?” Eichi waves the doujin at Keito, and the vice president scowls. “I hid those for a reason, don't just go looking through others property! Honestly, you're incorrigible.”

Eichi chuckles. “C’mon, Keito, we made these together! Don't you think I should be allowed to look at them?” Keito pouts and turns to the side, and Eichi feels something bloom in his chest, and he struggles to describe why.  _ He's so cute!  _ his brain supplies.

“That doesn't matter, it's still embarrassing,” taking a wavering step towards Eichi, he scolds him again, “And just because where you grew up, everything was about you, doesn't me-”

Keito collapses, suddenly, his body tumbling to the ground, as he breaks into a coughing fit. Blood and flowers litter the ground, and everything grows hazy for Eichi. Classmates rush towards Keito, yelling to get Sagami, and to clean the flowers, asking what happened.

_ “Danna! What happened?” _

_ “Someone clean up those flowers!” _

_ “Hasumi, can you stand!?” _

_ “Don't touch the flowers, Morrichi.” _

_ “It's like an epidemic, huh?” _

As he crumbles to the ground himself, one thought rings throughout his head:

_ “Keito, please, be alright,”  _ it implores, _ “Please, don't leave me.” _

When Keito’s pained face looks up at him surprise, he realizes he must've said it aloud. Keito's face is the last thing he sees in clarity before everything grows hazy.

* * *

 

This must the first time he's been the one waiting at the hospital anxiously; he wonders if this is how Keito always feels when he has to come visit him. Scared and anxious. Angry as well, although Keito has probably never been the same kind of angry when visiting Eichi. He's only rehearsed what he wants to say a few times, and he grows less sure of it every time he tries to rehearse again.

When he's admitted to the room, he walks briskly. Surely, Keito's family has already left by now, so he won't need to worry about them. Some of the doctors recognize him, and they exchange nods, even  _ hello _ s. Reaching the door,he gives it two strong knocks, and opens it when he hears a  _ come in _ .

Keito looks terrible. A bag is resting in his lap, most likely for the flowers he's been coughing up, but hardly any if them have made it into the bag. Blood has dried on his chin and around his lips. Paperwork litters the desk besides his hospital bed, having been either ignored or put aside all too quickly judging by their minimal markings. Keito's precious glasses rest on top of the stack, closed. Bewildered, Keito looks in his direction, probably only seeing blurs in his newly blind state without his glasses.

“Eichi,” he hesitates, “You came.”

With a  _ tsk,  _ Eichi moves to pull a chair to Keito's side, “Of course I did.” Solemnly, Keito nods in response, sighing at the ground and muttering out an apology. At first, it confuses Eichi, until he realizes that he only got this disease because of Keito. He shrugs off the tension with a nod. Then all is silent.

More than once, Eichi's lips part, trying to tell Keito how he feels, but the words die in throat–perhaps they were never meant to live a life in the first place.

“Look, Eichi,” Keito begins, “I know what you're going to say. You're going to tell me to get it removed, aren't you?” Despite himself, Eichi nods, and Keito scowls slightly and looks away. “Well, I'm not going to. This person, they're… far too important for me to just throw them to the side.”

“But I'm not?” His voice wavers, and Keito looks at him with a face of alarm. Coughs erupt through the blonde's body, and he lets the flowers litter the room, strewn across the floors. “This person, you're willing to die for them. Some person you just went and fell for, that you got this disease for. But me? Your childhood friend? You're prepared to die on me, aren't you!? You're just going to leave me all alone!” It's cruel and selfish of him to the fling these accusations at Keito like this, but he doesn't care. He'll do whatever need be to achieve his goals, won't he? If it means he can get Keito to rethink this, than it's worth hurting him.

“You're not thinking of getting the procedure either, are you?” A simple question, and yet Eichi stares at him pointedly.

“At least I'm not going to be leaving you behind for somebody else!” Coughs interrupt him before he can continue, and he holds up a hand to signal that he's not done. “I've always stayed by your side, and if these disease is what takes me, than I'll die with you on the forefront of my mind, and hopefully by my side, as well! But you! You're ready to just die looking right past me! Somebody that will hardly acknowledge you're gone!” He's furious, rightfully so he thinks. But he becomes hesitant when he sees Keito's mouth agape, and his eyes wide.

“You mean,” he lets out a cough, probably using the time to think of how to make his point, “That you'll be dying for me? That you have this disease for me?” Eichi nods, and Keito lets out a sigh before trying to continue, but Eichi interrupts him.

“I'm not getting it removed, even if you tell me to. Quite similar, aren't we? Although that might not even be true anymore. After all, you seem perfectly content to just leave me behind, don't you?” Keito tries to raise his voice again, but is overpowered, “You're always calling me selfish, but do you even realize how selfish  _ you're  _ being!? You don't even care that you're leaving me behind! In fact, you're rather happy, aren't you!? To you, this is all-”

Keito grabs his tie, and pulls him in closer, eyes narrowed.

“Why don't you give this dying man at least a single moment to speak?” He doesn't relent, even when Eichi tries to pull away, “You're going on and on about how furious you are at  _ them _ for this, but have you put any thought towards who  _ them  _ is?”

“I'm not exactly sure,” Keito sighs, “but! But, there is certainly a list of people that I'm positive make good candidates. There's Kuro-kun, of course. And Kanzaki-kun, Mao, Yuzuru, maybe even Sakuma. I'm getting close, aren't I?” Keito's face tells him otherwise.

“You're forgetting one  _ obvious  _ person, Eichi.”

“Am I?” Hesitantly, Eichi tries to rethink his choices, but finds no one else.

“Of course,” leaning in closer, Keito leaves only a few centimeters between them, “It’s you, idiot.”

Leaning all the way in, he lets their lips make contact. Although Keito's lips are soft, they're rigid, and Eichi tries to press back against them. Once Eichi reciprocates, Keito seems to find confidence, pulling Eichi out of his chair into his lap, and pressing against Eichi, nipping at Eichi's lips. Eichi leans back to catch his breath.

“It's a little late, but I love you, Keito.” A small smile takes hold of Keito's lips as he leans forward to whisper into Eichi’s ear.

“I've loved you for a long time, Eichi.”

When their lips meet again, euphoria explodes within Eichi. He can't feel the flowers clogging up his throat, and his chest isn't constricting painfully; but even if it was, he doesn't think he would mind. They pull away again, and Keito's flushed face prompts Eichi to tease him.

“You're rather good at this. Have you been researching it in your mangas, Keito?” The dark haired boy grumbles about him being incorrigible, before pulling him in closer to shush him properly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to name things, a guide for idiots - aka, what I desperately need.

**Author's Note:**

> "Was this edited?"  
> That's up to you to decide.
> 
> (I mean, I hope, but...)


End file.
